


i'm not the desperate type

by doubledareya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Drarry, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff, Harry is a Himbo, Internalized Homophobia, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, girls can go into the boys dorms i don't care, homoerotic tension, non binary characters, ron is ace because i said so, she/they pansy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubledareya/pseuds/doubledareya
Summary: Pansy and Draco are both oblivious to their own crushes, but are well aware of each other's. They make a deal at the beginning of their fourth year--to get the other to take their crush to the Yule Ball.The only problem is that they're both sworn enemies with their crushes.(currently on hiatus as of 2/25/21)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 159





	1. trying to forget everything that isn't you

**Author's Note:**

> UH OH what am i getting myself into. listen i know my writing sucks but i'm really excited about this so for the first two chapters it's probably going to be quantity over quality. i'm in love with this ship and i have some plans. some thoughts on the mind

Pansy wasn’t the kind of girl who spent afternoons studying in the library by candlelight hunched over a book for hours until it was practically pitch-black in there, but that’s exactly what she’d been doing for the last week. 

Obviously, she wasn’t _really_ studying—she had the uncanny ability to stare at a page for a good while and not actually gather anything from it. She was so uninterested in her book that she didn’t even know what it was about. She wasn’t at the library to study—she was sure only Ravenclaws did that. In fact, it seemed like every time she was at the library, there was a group of Ravenclaw boys who never spoke to each other, but seemed to send telepathic signals to each other across a table while reading books. But they were just a distraction from what she was really at the library. 

That reason was kind of hard to explain, actually.

Over summer break, Pansy had developed some weird obsession with Harry Potter, and by association, Hermione Granger. 

It wasn’t _her_ fault, she’d only ever seen the two of them as people to pick on, nothing more, nothing less, but sometime over the summer, Draco’s letters by owl to her started becoming less about his daddy issues (which Pansy used as a form of entertainment) and more about Harry Potter. It was nothing much at first, just a few “ _I wonder what Potter is up to now”_ , which she had to admit, was strange coming from his sworn enemy, but she brushed off. That was until it started to become more and more of a problem. Suddenly every one of his letters were about Harry, Ron, and Hermione. How he had seen them at the Quidditch World Cup before school, and on and on. Pansy would make fun of him for it, but in a lighthearted way. She had always suffered through Draco’s weird phases or obsessions with people, but this was something else. At one point, she had to call him out on it, but he just beat around the bush about how he was suspicious of Potter because of everything that was going on with Voldemort and Sirius Black. 

However, he’d made Pansy think about their trio again, and that made her think of Hermione. Pansy had constantly made fun of Hermione through her first three years at Hogwarts because she thought it was funny, she’d never thought about her in any other way than some weird girl with big teeth that hung out with Potter. And maybe it was her lack of romance since school ended—if you could call it that. Pansy had never partaken in the games and parties that took place in the Slytherin common room late into the night. She knew of all the gossip—who had a crush on who, all that, but she had never had any interest. It was kind of strange to her when she was younger, but later she just figured that she was a more logic-driven person, leading with her head rather than her heart, and that she would have time for romance later, when she wasn’t so focused with school. No boy had ever really interested Pansy, though all the Slytherin girls who were drooling over Malfoy were intensely jealous of her, even though she had never thought about Draco in that way at all. She hoped he didn’t think of her in that way, either. 

Hermione had made it clear that she had no interest in Pansy. They’d call each other rude names in potions and a few times Pansy had “accidentally” bumped into Hermione and made her drop her stuff, but that was harmless. But it was just enough to send a message to her that they were not friends. The furthest from it, actually. In Pansy’s mind, their rivalry was kind of a joke. It was just a thing that girls did sometimes. Of course, she didn’t _like_ Hermione. At least she didn’t think she did. It was all very complicated. Which brings in her other problem of her strange infatuation with her over the summer. When she arrived at school, she had made a promise to herself to not think about it. To not think about Hermione at all, because it was all too confusing. How could you hate someone but also think about dating them? 

And that was strange, too. As far as Pansy knew, girls didn’t date other girls. 

But her promise to herself was quickly forgotten when on the first day of school, just over a week ago, when she had seen Hermione in the Great Hall, sitting with Harry and Ron. And she felt something. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

So, Pansy had taken to going to the library to see her to see if she felt that way again. 

She had. 

Pansy had no real reason for doing this. There wasn’t any way to justify it in her mind. She just knew she wanted to see Hermione. So every day, for the last week, she had sat in the same spot and zoned out reading a book and would sneak a glance at Hermione every few minutes. And then, after a while, she wasn’t good with keeping track of time, she would leave. Pansy hoped it wasn’t stalking. 

She got up and slammed her book shut abruptly. A few people murmured and one person shushed her from some other corner of the library, but she didn’t care because she just realized that she had a shit ton of homework to do, and she had just spent the last hour staring at a girl she used to bully nearly every day with no explanation. It was pitch black outside, but that was expected.

Pansy’s urgency was nearly forgotten and instead she wandered the halls on autopilot. Her head was swimming and she had no real explanation for it—too many thoughts about Hermione and whatever was going on in her head. That was the part that bothered her the most—that there wasn’t an explanation. She didn’t like to jump to conclusions, like that someone had casted a spell on her, but at this point it was one of the only reasonable answers. Maybe Hermione was hiding something—Pansy had a knack for learning people’s secrets. 

When she arrived at the dungeon doors, she muttered the password and walked into the common room. It was freezing, as it always was, and both oriental fireplaces were lit up and crackling. The dingy dungeon smell was perpetual, but it felt comforting after her first few years at school. The room was as quiet as it usually was this time, with only a few people speaking in low voices in other corners of the room. 

“Three hours,” came Malfoy’s voice from the couch. For some reason it nearly made Pansy jump out of her skin.

It took her a moment to realize what he said. “What?”

“You were gone for three hours—nearly three and a half,” Draco turned his head towards Pansy from his place on the sofa. “Got anything to say about it?”

She tightened her grip on her potions textbook. “I was studying. Like I told you.”

“Studying?” Draco shared a smile with Blaise, who was sitting across from him, writing something on a scroll of parchment. “What were you studying then?”

“Potions, herbology—”

“You don’t take herbology.”

“You don’t know that!”

Malfoy laughed and Pansy’s face went red. “I do, actually. And you know what’s funny? I heard from Blaise that Granger was in the library, too—”

“Shut up!” Pansy hit Draco on the head with her book and he let out a string of colorful swear words. She smiled and walked around to sit on the couch next to him. 

“That was fucking _bullshit_ ,” Malfoy said, scratching his head. “That was _heavy_.”

Pansy ignored him. “Why are you so hung up with me and Granger, anyway? It’s none of your business. Some weird fetish thing, I assume,” she said with a dramatic sigh. 

“That’s not—why would I—” Draco’s voice rose an octave.

“Alright then, why are you so hung up on Potter? Every damn letter I got from you— _I’ve been thinking about Potter a lot, what do you reckon he’s up to?_ And _I wonder what Potter’s up to these days_ and _you’ll never guess who I saw at the Quidditch world cup_ —”

“Fucking shut up!” Draco shouted over Pansy, and shot up off the couch. When he turned around, his face was bright red. That made her pause a moment. Whenever she teased Draco about Harry, it was always lighthearted. It was a joke. But the way Malfoy was acting was very strange. 

“Okay, I’m leaving this alone for now,” Pansy said cautiously, walking over to Draco. He looked panicked somehow, in a way she had hardly ever seen him. It was worrying, to say the least. “Are you all right?” She asked calmly, nearly whispering. 

“I’m fine,” was all he said before leaving and turning towards the boy’s dormitories. Pansy was left alone standing in front of the fireplace with more questions than answers. Her immediate course of action was to do what she usually did in this situation—use magic. She was gifted at potions and had been ever since her first year, but something like this required something more powerful than basic potions.

Once Malfoy left, Pansy exchanged a look with Blaise, who was still sitting on the couch, watching everything play out. 

It was easier to drop a subject and come back to it, but not for Pansy it wasn’t. When there was a problem, she had to solve it, no matter how many cans of worms it opened. There was something Malfoy wasn’t telling her. There was also something Granger wasn’t telling her. And she was planning on figuring it out at any cost. 


	2. growing up or just going down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH for the kudos and comments on the last chapter!!! i fully wasn't expecting this to get any attention and it's sincerely appreciated :)))
> 
> this chapter is a lot better than the last one now that i've had some practice. i'm also going to be following the book, not relying on much of the movie, because it's more detailed and i prefer it anyway. on with chapter two!

Pansy woke up the next morning with a blistering headache. Nothing a little magic couldn’t fix, but it was still enough to put her in a bitter mood. She blamed everything that had happened the previous day with Draco. To be fair, he seemed different somehow, like something had changed over the summer. More space out than usual. It was easy to blame it on the fact that they had only been in school for a week, but something about it was bothering her. She just felt constantly tense—it was that feeling of unknowing, that there were answers to her problems but she just couldn’t find them. 

Pansy shared her dorm room with two other students, but she had barely even seen them at all since the start of school. They were always gone when she woke up and asleep by the time she went to bed. She assumed they were younger than her, but there was no way of telling. At least when she got ready she had the room all to herself, which was good because there was a fair amount of dancing and lip syncing in the mirror in her morning routine as she did her makeup and hair that she didn't really want other people around for.

When she arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, she sat where she usually did, next to Malfoy. He was already eating when she got there, which wasn’t a surprise as she tended to be at least ten minutes late every morning. 

“Morning,” she said to no one in particular. Malfoy acknowledged her with a nod. Pansy clenched her fist. So nothing had resolved overnight—Draco was still worked up about something. 

She tried to make conversation. “Are Quidditch tryouts soon? Or are you just automatically on the team?”

Draco hesitated for a moment before responding. “My father paid someone already. Don’t know. I don’t have to try out.”

Pansy nodded. The few people sitting around her—Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle, said nothing. She sighed dramatically in hopes of attracting someone’s attention, but not one of them looked up from their food. Maybe that’s just how boys were. She always knew she should be friends with more girls in her house. There was Millicent, though she always seemed kind of snobby for Pansy’s taste. There was some kind of unspoken rule that Slytherins could make fun of people in other houses, but never each other. 

Meanwhile, the entire school was buzzing about the news of the Triwizard Tournament, which Hogwarts would be hosting. Pansy herself wasn’t too excited about it—she hardly knew anyone who was old enough to participate and the idea was kind of boring to her. She figured once it had begun, she would be more invested. One of the other schools participating, Durmstrang, was familiar to Pansy. Over the summer in one of his many letters, Draco had told Pansy that he and his father had considered sending him there for school instead of Hogwarts. Something about it being more sensible. The other schools would be arriving in October, and the champions were to be chosen on Halloween night. The most Pansy could hope for was for a Slytherin to be Hogwarts’ champion, but knowing Dumbledore, she didn’t have high hopes.

Her gaze wandered to the Gryffindor table as it usually did, and she caught a glimpse of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Some other Weasleys were sitting with them, too, and they were all laughing and cracking jokes. Something about seeing them like that made Pansy’s stomach lurch. In comparison to the Gryffindor table, hers looked like a funeral banquet. Maybe that was her problem with Hermione. She was jealous of her. At first, Pansy rejected the idea, but it made sense the more she thought about it. All the more reason to bully her.

The mail came, which was uneventful—Pansy hardly ever received anything from home, not that she minded so much. Draco received something, however, a letter from his father and a copy of  _ The Daily Prophet _ . Pansy didn’t want to bother him—he didn’t seem to want to speak. He read the letter silently and began to read the newspaper. Pansy couldn’t help herself and read it out of the corner of her eye. Nothing very exciting from what she could tell, but Draco looked amused as he finished one of the stories and set the paper aside. 

Malfoy’s weird silent treatment on Pansy was one of the most inconvenient things she'd had to endure at Hogwarts. As it turned out, school was so much more painstaking when she didn’t have anyone to talk to. What made it worse was that Malfoy was in basically all her classes, other than care of magical creatures, which Draco had refused to take after the incident the year prior. Malfoy not talking to her made her realize just how few friends she had. All the other ones she had were in relation to Draco. It would be strange for her to just go up and talk to Blaise—they weren’t good friends. 

By her last class, transfiguration, Pansy was ready to confront Malfoy at dinner. It was just awkward; they sat together in all their classes so when something entertaining happened or Longbottom asked a dumb question, there was no one to laugh about it with. And there was no one to get the answers from when she wasn’t paying attention, which was frustrating for her. 

When class ended, she left in a huff to go to the bathroom before dinner. Pansy couldn’t lie now, she was angry at Malfoy. She’d never seen him like this, and it was worrying. She tried to remember what she had said to him the previous night, but she couldn’t remember any specifics. 

Pansy stood around in the bathroom for a while, fixing her hair and makeup in the mirror, until she heard people shouting outside. It wasn’t exactly uncommon to hear shouting or strange noises in the halls, it was Hogwarts after all. Whether it was Peeves, another ghost, or a random duel between second years that had no idea how to properly hold a wand. She paused and waited for more shouting before stepping outside into the hall. 

There was hardly a crowd, maybe three or four people on each side. Just a few feet in front of her was Draco, brandishing the newspaper he had received during breakfast and taunting none other than Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Harry’s hand was on the back of Ron’s robes, pulling him back from Malfoy. Malfoy seemed to have given up his poor mood and his amused grin was plastered across his face again. Pansy held her breath and watched for a moment.

Malfoy made some backhanded comment about Weasley’s mother, but Pansy wasn’t paying attention. Her vision was locked on Professor Moody, who was standing as a still as a statue at the end of the hallway. She had only had a few classes with him so far, and he set off all the red flags for Pansy. He was creepy and erratic and never taught from the books. Something told Pansy he just made things up half the time. She watched Moody steadily raise his wand.

“You know  _ your  _ mother, Malfoy?” said Harry, glaring daggers at Malfoy. “That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Draco’s face went bright red, but it was different from the night before. He wasn’t embarrassed, he was angry. “Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” Harry said with finality, then turned away.

Suddenly, a massive  _ bang!  _ came from the other side of the hallway. Pansy screamed and clapped her hands over her ears. 

“Oh no you don’t!” shouted Professor Moody. All the attention was on him, but Pansy was focused elsewhere. In the spot where Draco had been standing previous was a snow white ferret. No one said a word. 

“Did he get you?” Moody muttered to Harry. Pansy slapped the back of Crabbe’s robes, who was standing in front of her, and motioned to him to get the ferret—Malfoy. Nothing had registered in her mind yet—it was one of the weirdest sensations. Not adrenaline—shock. She felt entirely numb but was still able to think straight. 

“Leave it!” Moody shouted suddenly. It seemed as though everyone jumped back at the same moment. 

“Leave what?” Harry asked.

“Not you-- him!” Moody growled, gesturing at Crabbe, who was leaning over to pick up the ferret. Moody started to limp towards Crabbe and the ferret, and dangerously close to Pansy as well. She held her breath again. The ferret squeaked and then started sprinting down the hall.

“I don’t think so!” shouted Moody, who took off after it. It would’ve been hilarious—one of the funniest and most ridiculous things she’d ever seen—if it wasn’t her best friend who was the ferret. All Pansy could do was watch as Moody cast another spell and started smacking the ferret against the floor. She was horrified and tried to scream, but nothing came out. “I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back is turned,” Moody said to no one in particular. Pansy’s stomach twisted and she helplessly wondered why _no one was stopping_ _him._

“Never— do— that— again—” Moody said, hitting the ferret against the floor on each word. 

“Professor Moody!” said a voice that Pansy thought came from her. She turned and saw Professor McGonagall on the other end of the hallway, her arms full of books. 

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody casually, still bouncing the ferret through the air. 

“What  _ are  _ you doing?” McGonagall asked, appalled.

“Teaching,” growled Moody.

“Is that a  _ student? _ ” 

“Yep.”

“No!” cried Professor McGonagall. She waved her wand and suddenly, Draco reappeared on the floor. He looked disheveled, his hair hanging over his face and his uniform covered in dust. Pansy’s mouth was hanging open. Malfoy got to his feet and hid his face from the crowd. McGonagall and Moody started bickering about something again, but Pansy didn’t hear. If she didn’t know Draco any better, she’d think he was fine—a little annoyed, but fine. But she knew him better than this. He looked like he was about to cry. 

“My father will hear about this,” Malfoy said quietly over the two professors. He was putting in a lot of effort to make sure his voice didn’t shake. Moody’s magic eye whirled around to Malfoy and away from McGonagall. 

“Oh yeah?” Moody said quietly, taunting. “Well, I know your father, old boy…you tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son…you tell him that from me…now, your Head of House would be Snape, will it?”

“Yes,” said Draco firmly.

“Another old friend,” growled Moody. “I’ve been looking forward to a chat with Snape…come on, you…” He seized Malfoy’s arm and marched him off towards the dungeons. Pansy’s eyes widened, and without thinking, she started following the two of them down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of the dialogue was ripped from the book tbh. i have zero respect for jk rowling so i really don't care. 
> 
> leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!!


	3. the new face of failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again thank you so much for the kudos!! it's really really appreciated :))
> 
> i know it's supposed to be a slow burn but i'm impatient!! hermione hasn't even shown up yet it's fine. lots of angst to come.

Moody had noticed Pansy deliberately following the two of them very quickly—she was sure it was because of his magical eye. It seemed to be able to see through anything: walls, people, through desks and bags. Her mind obviously wandered to what else he could be using it for and grossed herself out. 

When Professor Moody noticed her following, he abruptly stopped and turned around. Draco’s face was emotionless, but his eyes were darting around like mad, having not known she was behind them. Pansy wasn’t exactly trying to hide the fact that she was following them, but she hadn’t expected to get caught so quickly.

“You think it’s funny, following me?” Moody growled in a low voice. Pansy had seen what Moody did to Draco, and it had just dawned on her that something like that could definitely happen to her. 

Pansy tried her best to look confident. “No. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to kill my friend, actually,” she said, and exchanged a look with Draco. He looked scared, nothing like how she’d seen him before. The low dungeon lights cast shadows across his face and made him look like a ghost. It made Moody look like a lunatic, which she figured was fitting.

“I’m not going to _do_ anything with him,” Moody hissed, flailing Draco’s arm around. “I was _going_ to your house’s common room…have a word with Snape, just to clear things up. But now that _you’re_ here,” he said, and took her arm forcefully, “I’m going to bring you to see Snape yourselves.”

Pansy tried to shake Moody’s hand off her arm, but he was much stronger than her and her efforts were fruitless. “Us? What did I do?” she shouted, furiously trying to pry Moody’s hand off her arm with her fingernails. “You’re the one who should be punished, you turned my friend into a ferret!” She turned to Draco, desperate for him to pull for her, but he just remained silent and still, like a corpse rigged to stand up straight. 

“Do not doubt my authority,” Moody said, and turned with a start, practically dragging the two of them behind him. Part of Pansy knew that she should’ve yelled for a fire at this point, having no clue what was going on, but the other part of her knew she should shut up and listen.

The three of them arrived at Professor Snape’s office a few moments later in complete silence. Moody knocked on the door and waited just about two seconds before yelling for Snape. “Severus! I have to speak with you!” he shouted, kicking his boot on the door. The door opened soon after that by a bored-looking Snape. In fact, Pansy had never seen Snape look anything other than bored or annoyed, or a combination of the two. Moody dropped Pansy and Draco’s arms and practically shoved them into the office. “These two,” Moody snarled, “were wrecking havoc in the hallways outside the Great Hall. Shoulda known…never trust a Malfoy…”

Pansy’s jaw went slack and she shook her head. “That’s actually _not_ what happened, professor—Malfoy was speaking with Harry Potter in the hallway and then Moody came and—” 

“Absolutely wrong. I was there, I can recount the event myself,” Moody interrupted.

Pansy gripped her wand in her pocket. Not that she would cast anything really harmful, just in case the situation escalated. Snape looked between Pansy and Malfoy. Pansy caught Draco’s eye and tried to communicate for him to talk, to defend himself, or do _something_ , even when he was talking back to Moody in the hallway he was saying something, but once again he was being completely silent. 

“Professor Moody, these two students are both extremely gifted and well-behaved in my classes,” Snape started, deadpan. “I find it hard to believe that they would be causing a disruption in the hallway. Thank you for bringing them to me, but I’m going to ask you to leave and question them myself. I’ll be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this.” 

Pansy let out a breath. Draco still wasn’t talking. Or moving, for that matter. Moody grumbled something unintelligible and left, leaving the three of them alone in Snape’s office. He motioned for the two of them to sit down, which they did, reluctantly. 

Snape’s office was cold and dark, just l like the rest of the dungeons. There was the ever-present smell of mold and mildew that clung to Pansy’s sheets and clothes wafting around, and some other smell that she couldn’t identify emitting from one of the large cauldrons in the center of the room. Long shelves held countless empty bottles and potions ingredients, all meticulously hand-labeled and lined up in alphabetical order. Pansy and Draco sat on wobbly metal chairs in front of Snape’s desk, which was as organized as the rest of the office.

“Miss Parkinson,” Snape started, sitting down at the desk dramatically. Pansy returned her grip on her wand. Though she had learned to trust Snape over the years, she still didn’t _really_ trust anyone. “What happened in the hallway with Professor Moody?”

“Why don’t you ask Draco? I only saw half of it. I was in the bathroom,” Pansy said, and elbowed Draco in the ribs. He flinched away from her and exhaled. 

“I was talking to Potter. About nothing, really. Nothing important. Then Moody came out of bloody nowhere and cast some spell on me…I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter. And then McGonagall showed up and then Moody dragged us here. That’s it.”

Pansy turned to Malfoy, puzzled. “You mean you don’t remember what Moody did?”

Draco shook his head. “Obviously not.”

Pansy’s eyes widened. She didn’t know whether to tell him or not. She figured he’d find out on his own, sooner or later.

Snape looked between the two of them and sighed dramatically. “Well, if you two don’t have a clear answer, then I’ll go ask Professor McGonagall myself. Hopefully that won’t be a problem to the two of you.”

Pansy shook her head, but Draco didn’t respond.

Snape stood up. “Stay right here. I’ll be back to inform you on what punishment, if any, you’ll be receiving.” 

The second Snape left the room, Pansy felt physically relieved and let go of her wand in her pocket. 

“Christ, that was fucking _bullshit_.”

Malfoy looked at her with a strange expression. Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Okay, what is this? What are you doing, are you trying to be an arsehole on purpose? Because you haven’t spoken to me all day and you won’t even try to get out of punishment,” she said, trying not to shout. “Seriously, are you okay?” she added in a much lower tone.

Draco shook his head, leaned back in his chair, and smirked. “Seriously? You’re _that_ worried?”

Pansy wanted to slap him. “Of course I am, you fucker!” she said, and hit him on his shoulder. He didn’t react much, but still kept smiling. “What’s going on? Why did you get so worked up last night? This is the most you haven’t spoken to me in forever, did I do something wrong?”

Malfoy’s eyes widened, and then his smug expression returned. “You really _were_ worried about me.”

“Of course, you bastard.”

The two of them exchanged a smile, and suddenly Pansy realized that everything was back to normal. 

“I got pissed off the other night because you kept talking about Potter, that’s all,” he said. “Nothing else, really. I just wanted to see you get pissed off at me and stop talking about him.”

Pansy was about to shout at him again, then shut her mouth. Draco’s plan had worked. 

“Then you have to stop pestering me about Granger, okay?”  
He nodded. There was a small moment of silence before Malfoy added, “you wouldn’t mind me talking about her unless you fancied her,” in a small voice.

Pansy thought about hitting him again.

“I mean, you _do_ make it kind of obvious. Watching her in the library. Calling her out in potions or at dinner. The constant talk about her and ‘I wonder who’s dense enough to take her to the Yule Ball.’ Honestly, if I were you, I’d be embarrassed. I’m sure everyone knows now," Draco said with a laugh

It was a joke. What Malfoy had said was a joke. But for some reason, the words had hit her like a punch in the gut. The thing was, Pansy didn’t make it obvious. She sure as hell didn’t make it obvious, because it wasn’t even real. She didn’t have a crush on Hermione. She _hated_ Hermione. 

“That was fucking bitchy,” is what Pansy says instead of a rational thought. Malfoy snickered until he saw her expression. “What if I had said that about you and Potter?” she asked softly, her voice shaking. Her hands were shaking, too, and suddenly the dungeons were less homey and more claustrophobic.

“I’d say you were mad. Delusional. ”

“Exactly.”

The two of them sat in silence until Snape came back. Pansy wanted to pretend that didn’t just happen. She wanted to try so hard that she hadn’t just come to the conclusion that she’d come to, but there wasn’t any denying it now. Draco hadn’t talked either, or moved for that matter. Snape came in a few minutes later and told them that they would be fine, but Pansy didn’t hear any of it. She heard it—she just didn’t listen. Her and Draco walked back to their respective dormitories without dinner. They didn’t say anything as they turned down the opposite hallways to their rooms. Not that they were mad at each other. Not that they didn’t have anything to say. It was just that if Pansy started talking then, she knew she’d never shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fixed the end notes. please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!!


	4. douse yourself in cheap perfume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit thank you for the amount of kudos this is getting!! I know it's not a lot but seriously, thank you so much. 
> 
> this chapter really long, but i think i like longer chapters better. I'm not really on a schedule of posting because it'd be too much pressure on me and i probably wouldn't get anything done. so i'm just going to post something like once a week.

Pansy would’ve loved to stay in her bed for the next week, deliberately avoiding her friends, skipping class, and listening to The Cure on the radio she had snuck into school, wallowing in self-pity or some shit like that, but she had only managed to do that for two days. 

They kind of went by in a blur of sobbing, drinking hot chocolate, and having spur-of-the-moment angry fits where she would throw all the pillows and sheets off her bed and fling them at the walls only for her to sob and break down on the floor when she had to put them back. During her days of isolation, Pany inevitably met her roommates. They were third years—both extremely short and wide-eyed, and seemed to be a little skittish around Pansy. Not that she could blame them, their first impression of her was a pitiful scene of her punching her pillow until feathers came flying out of it in a fit. 

Pansy wasn’t doing a lot of thinking about what she should’ve been thinking about, just a lot of crying whenever she thought about it again. “It” being her apparent crush on Hermione.

Honestly, it wasn’t that much that her crush was on another girl. Anyone could have guessed that, and she probably would’ve figured it out sooner or later. Her first instinct should’ve been the fact that she was nearly fifteen and had never had a crush on any guy ever. Pansy also should’ve assumed that when she was revolted at the idea of dating Draco. All the girls, whether they were Slytherin or not, seemed to have a crush on him. And when they inevitably made some comment about Malfoy and her dating, she would always feel really gross about it—she had just always assumed it was because he was her friend, nothing else. 

So no, Pansy wasn’t really surprised that she was gay. 

What hurt worse, what made her cry every time she thought about it, was that the person she had a crush on was _Hermione._ Of course, it had to be her. It could literally be anyone other than Hermione _fucking_ Granger. The girl that she had relentlessly bullied for the last three years, and who definitely wasn’t eager to date her. It was ridiculous. Fucking crazy. Pansy was smart. She should’ve known she had a crush on Hermione—literally all signs pointed to it. The fact that she was that oblivious made her want to break down again. 

Pansy didn’t even want to think about coming out to her parents. She’d never really known what their political stance was, but whatever they thought, it was almost inevitable they wouldn’t be okay with it. 

She was fucking hopeless. Pathetic, even. Crying over a girl who wanted nothing to do with Pansy, and it was all her fault. Maybe that was the reason she targeted Hermione in the first place, She had always had a crush on her. That just made her feel even more pathetic.

~

On the third day, Pansy had no other option than to get up. She was sure she’d be issued some kind of punishment for skipping classes for two days straight, but she hoped that maybe Snape had told her teachers about the day before and spun it into some reason to let her stay in bed. She had been wondering what Draco had been up to—either forcing himself to go to classes or doing what she’d been doing, not that it really mattered. 

The third day was October 3, the day that the rival schools were supposed to arrive for the Triwizard Tournament, and the selection of the champions. Pansy got up early, before either of her roommates, and quietly slipped out the door.

One of the worst parts of living in the dungeons was that she could never tell exactly what it was like outside until she went up to the top floors. It was a hell of a walk to get to the Owlery or astronomy tower, but Pansy didn’t mind. It was peaceful in the morning—the floors were still cold and her footsteps echoed in the hallway. She wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but she assumed either five or six, and she still had plenty of time to get to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

It felt strange, walking around in the castle so early it was practically deserted, after being stuck in her room for two days straight not speaking to anyone. And on the day before Halloween, she dared to say it was even a little scary. Pansy had never been scared of living at Hogwarts—she was used to ghosts or other weird creatures or strange noises, it was just inevitable. 

When she arrived at the Owlery, she was shocked at how cold it was outside. Sure, the dungeons were constantly freezing, but nothing matched the bitter chill of the wind when she was so high up in the castle. All the owls were still asleep or cooing softly, and it was strangely peaceful. Pansy didn’t have an owl herself— her parents had promised her one for her fifteenth birthday coming up in a few weeks, and she hoped it wasn’t an empty promise. Having her own owl would make it much easier to communicate with Draco over the summer, or even her parents at home. 

Pansy stepped closer to one of the balconies and watched over the lake. The sun was shining brightly over the dark water, and she could see grindylows and merpeople under the water. It was strangely beautiful, as absurd as it was, but it made her feel like home. That everything was okay, no matter how shitty the last two days were.

And then that feeling was effectively ruined, because none other than Harry Potter appeared next to her, having climbed the stairs. Pansy almost wanted to laugh, but instead she said nothing, and just maintained some awkward eye contact with him. She ignored him and went back to her view, but it’s not like she could focus on it now with Harry behind her. It could’ve been anyone else, but of course it had to be him. 

After a few awkward moments of silence, Pansy turned around and watched Harry tie a letter to his owl’s foot. 

“Who’s the letter for?” Pansy asked, her voice nearly making Harry jump.

“Uh,” he looked down at it like he wasn’t sure. “It’s for my…cousin.”

“You hate your cousin,” Pansy said automatically, remembering what she had heard from Draco.

Harry shifted his eyes wildly around the room, from the letter, to Pansy, to the floor, and back to the letter. “None of your business.”

“Why are you sending him a letter, then?”

“None of your business,” he repeated, his voice growing harsh.

“You wouldn’t mind telling me if it weren’t something you’d want to hide,” she remarked, walking closer to Harry. She wouldn’t steal the letter to read it herself, she just wanted to scare Harry into thinking she would. “And why’re you here so early in the morning? Seems kind of suspicious to me.”

Harry fumbled over his words for a few seconds. Pansy watched him the whole time, awaiting an answer. 

“Well— why’re you here so early?”

She gave him a look like “that’s what you decided to say?” and sighed. Pansy gestured to the lake. “I like the view. So why are you here?”

“I’m sending a letter. So what? Why are you so interested?” She could tell Harry was getting worked up now, and it was amusing. It almost made her forget about why she needed to clear her head. 

“You know, I really wasn’t that interested until you started acting like you were hiding something,” she said. 

Harry shuffled his feet. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Pansy snickered and gave Harry a smile. “Sure you aren’t.”

And then she left. She didn’t stick around to see Harry send his owl off, because frankly, she didn’t care. And besides, she had breakfast to attend. 

~

Pansy was one of the first students in the Great Hall, and even on a day that most students were anticipating Durmstrang and Beauxbatons’ arrival, it was still relatively quiet. A few minutes after Pansy had finished eating, Malfoy, followed by a swarm of students had arrived. Something about the sudden crowd was comforting. Pansy was glad to be back, and not tucked away in her room like a hermit.

“Where’ve you been?” Draco asked pointedly as he sat down next to Pansy. He didn’t look as angry as he sounded, more concerned.

“Where do you think I’ve been?” Pansy said, testing him. 

Draco shook his head. “I checked the hospital wing, I was scared something had happened. Kind of stupid of me, though,” he said, surveying the food in front of him, “so I assume you’ve been in your dormitory?”

“Obviously.” 

“Are you…alright, then?” Malfoy said carefully.

Pansy nodded. “I think so. And you’re good as well?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I am.”

It’s not like they could really say about what they were talking about, not in front of everyone else. It was strange, like some made-up language they shared between the two of them. So that was it. They were both fucking homos, head over heels for the Chosen One and his best friend. 

“How the fuck—” Pansy began.

“Don’t know. Guess we’re both dense as a rock,” Draco finished.

There was a lull in their conversation after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Pansy overheard some gossip about who was going to try out for the Triwizard Tournament, who was coming from the other schools, things like that. It didn’t stop Pansy from not caring, though. Cedric Diggory was one of the names that kept being brought up. He was one of the Hufflepuff boys who all the girls had a crush on and all the boys probably also had a crush on, too. Pansy didn’t really care for him—she didn’t care for any Hufflepuff at all, really. They always kind of annoyed her.

~

Pansy’s classes were fairly unproductive that day. No one paid any attention and all anyone could talk about was the Triwizard Tournament. It gave Pansy an excuse to slack off and stare at Hermione from the back of the classroom, but her teachers were understanding of all the students having a relaxing day in anticipation for that evening. Classes were to end half an hour early so the students could watch the other schools arrive, and any excuse to get out of a class was good enough for Pansy. 

None of her teachers confronted her about her absence over the last few days except for Professor McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall made some comment about her skipping class, which thankfully, no one had been paying attention to, and Snape asked her about it at the beginning of class. She told him she was having “menstrual problems”, which seemed to scare him enough to not ask any more questions about it. 

When the bell rang, Pansy and Draco practically sprinted to the dungeons to drop off their bags. Not that they were necessarily excited, but they just wanted to leave class as fast as possible. 

There was a  _ massive  _ crowd outside the front steps of the castle. It had to have been every single student, all talking over each other and eagerly watching for something— they didn’t even know what. Of course, her and Draco tried to find Harry and Hermione and inch closer to them, but there wasn’t exactly a lot of wiggle room when seven grades of an entire school were surrounding them. Suddenly, Dumbledore shouted something from the back of the crowd— what it was, Pansy couldn’t tell, but she didn’t need to. Out of the sky, came a massive powder-blue horse-drawn carriage pulled by a fleet of flying horses. Pansy couldn’t help it— her jaw dropped. It was gorgeous, more elegant and beautiful than the Hogwarts Express would ever be. She figured that had to be Beauxbatons.

Next came Durmstrang, just as dramatic as Beauxbatons was. They arrived on a magnificent ship that came bobbing out from under the black lake. The students all fled out of the ship after it had docked, followed by their headmaster, who walked up to Dumbledore and started speaking with him.

“So you were going to transfer to this school?” Pansy asked Draco. She was freezing outside, having not brought a jacket, and she was starting to get impatient.

“Yeah. Still might, but I’d have to talk to my mother about it.”

The two of them carefully watched the Durmstrang students walking on and off the ship, until Draco started violently shaking Pansy’s shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,  _ what— _ ”

“That’s Viktor Krum,” he said, breathless, and pointed to one of the students standing beside the headmaster.

“You can’t just say names and expect me to know who it is—”

“Fucking  _ hell _ , Pansy, he’s one of the greatest Quidditch players of the century! He’s the Bulgarian Seeker…what the  _ fuck _ …what’s he doing here? At Hogwarts? What?” Draco looked mental, and was frantically looking around to see if anyone else had noticed. Pansy had never really had any interest in Quidditch, but the name rang a bell.

“It sounds like  _ somebody  _ has a crush…”

“Fuck off,” Draco hissed, and elbowed Pansy, but she couldn’t help herself from laughing.

After that, everyone shuffled inside to the Great Hall for dinner. Draco was still shaken from seeing Krum, and he nearly had a seizure when the rest of the Durmstrang students, including Viktor, sat down at the Slytherin table. Naturally, everyone would sit around Malfoy, but this time they were all crowding around Viktor, asking him questions and talking over each other. Pansy didn’t pay him any attention though, her mind was somewhere else. 

Ever since they’d arrived, Pansy couldn’t tear her eyes away from this one Beauxbatons girl. She had long, silvery blonde hair that fell to her waist and bright blue eyes. She was gorgeous, and Pansy couldn’t stop looking at her. What made it worse was that she was sitting next to Hermione. Fucking Hermione. Technically she was sitting next to Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, too, but that didn’t make it any better. The two girls were exact opposites— the Beauxbatons girl was pale, with light hair and bright eyes, and Hermione had dark skin, hair, and eyes. Putting them next to each other just wasn’t fair. Pansy couldn’t even figure out how the two of them together made her feel. Jealous, maybe? Or she had a crush on the girl. Fucking awesome. Two crushes in one day, and they were both on girls. Honestly, it just made her feel more like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was a lot!! and next chapter will have Hermione in it, i promise. pansy's just kind of a disaster but i love her. 
> 
> please leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed!!


	5. fake it for the airwaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize in advance for this chapter-- it's so fucking short. i was super unmotivated for the last week and literally couldn't write anything. think of this as a mini-chapter. things still happen, but not a lot. next chapter is a big one. sorry for the wait!

“Don’t lie Draco, you were staring at Krum the whole time—”

“Fuck off! Seriously,” Draco shoved Pansy lightly but she just laughed in return. “And it’s not like you were any better—making eyes at that blonde girl…”  
Pansy’s eyes lit up and she jumped in front of Malfoy. “Did you _see_ her? My _god,_ she was so fucking gorgeous. Every guy in the damn room was staring at her, totally in love.” She was practically giddy, hopping down the hallway with Draco long after curfew. It wasn’t something they did frequently, but it was always exciting when they did. They were both carrying their shoes so as to not make any noise, but their voices still carried and echoed through the bare stone hallways. 

“What happened with Granger, though?” 

“Still gay. The other girl’s just so fucking pretty, you know? I doubt she’s very smart at all, actually. Hermione’s just really intelligent and pretty in a different way—not like in films, but like— in real life.”

Draco looked at her, amused. “Well, this is real life.”

“Obviously.” Pansy paused. “So what’re you going to do about Krum?” she asked with a smile.

Draco’s face went red. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?. You’re staying in the same dormitory, you never know…”

“First thing, he’s seventeen. That’s revolting. Second, he’s a fucking celebrity. I doubt he’d even want to talk to me.”

“I don’t think that blonde girl is ever going to talk to me, but don’t give up hope,” Pansy said with a slight smile. They walked for a few more minutes in virtual silence before Pansy remembered something that Dumbledore had said on the first day of school, back in September.

“What about the Yule Ball?”

“What about it?” Draco asked, and stopped walking.

“You are planning on going, right?”

He hesitated for a long moment, and the silence hung thick in the air. Pansy didn’t need to hear him respond, but knew just from that moment that he didn’t want to go.

“Why not?” Pansy asked, whinier than she had meant. “This is the first time in literally hundreds of years that there’s being a Yule Ball and we’re literally never going to get the chance to go  _ ever  _ again.”

Pansy wasn’t the kind of person to like formal events— she hated wearing skirts and dresses and having to actually act politely in front of other people. But something about the Yule Ball was so appealing. Probably something about being a dumb teenager with dumb crushes that made her want to go. 

Malfoy screwed up his face. “There’s no appeal.”

“No appeal?” Pansy asked, shocked. “You get to dress up nice and dance with people and eat food and…” she trailed off. “Okay now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds kind of dumb. But not that there’s a problem with that. I don’t know, it could be romantic.”

“Romantic?” Malfoy nearly laughed. 

“Well  _ I’m  _ sorry that  _ I  _ want to dance with a girl I have a crush on,” she said with mock offendedness. “Seriously, you’d never want to go?”

“No, not particularly.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “On what exception?” 

“If—”

“If you went with Potter,” she finished for him. Not that she really thought that’s what he was going to say, but she hoped it. Whenever Malfoy talked about Harry, it made her feel better about Hermione.

Draco looked around wildly. “Not so loud,  _ fuck _ —” 

She was mildly overcome with happiness. It was just nice to see— Draco having feelings for someone like this. Getting flustered over it— it just made Pansy happy. It made him seem more human in a way. “We’ve literally been talking about Potter this whole time,” she said with a laugh. “What’s the problem?”

Malfoy jerked his head towards the hallway next to the two of them. It was lined with hundreds of portraits—all asleep, of course—but the one on the end of the hallway was unmistakably the Fat Lady, the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. 

“What, it’s not like they can hear us,” Pansy said in a hushed tone.

“You don’t know that,” Draco hissed, and gestured to the portraits. “They hear things. They can spread rumors.”

Pansy snickered. “Frankly, I don't think they care about students’ crushes.”

“They might,” Draco whispered as Pansy pulled him down a staircase back towards the dungeons and away from the hall of portraits. Not that Pansy understood Draco’s paranoia, but she didn’t want to keep him in an uncomfortable situation. 

They eventually made their way back to the dungeons, somehow not getting caught. The two of them had worked out that getting caught doing something against school rules never really affected them. That’s why that day with Moody was so alarming. Pansy knew it was kind of arrogant to just assume they’d never get caught, but it was easy not to. Snape was always on their side, and he intimidated anyone except for the Headmaster, and everyone knew who Draco was, and more importantly, who his father was. They were too scared to snitch on Malfoy, so the two of them were able to get off without punishment the majority of the time. 

When they arrived in the common room, they both sat down on one of the big leather sofas in front of the dying fireplace. Pansy didn’t know exactly what time it was, but it had to have been close to sunrise, based on the amount of time they had been up walking around the castle.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Draco started, his voice low, “about the ball.”

“Are you going to come?” Pansy asked excitedly, completely forgetting to be quiet.

“I’ll come on one condition.” 

Pansy held her breath.

“I’ll only come if we somehow manage to get dates with Potter and Granger. If we can’t— no Yule Ball.”

Pansy opened her mouth to say something, and then paused. It almost seemed too easy. Granted, she hadn’t said anything to Hermione in weeks that wasn’t an insult, and she guessed the same for Draco with Harry, but something about that goal didn’t seem all that difficult. She tended to have too much faith in herself, and she realized that their plan could totally backfire, but she couldn’t imagine going to the ball with anyone else.

“But we don’t…what’s stopping me from going myself?”

Malfoy snickered. “Are you seriously going to have the willpower to go without me?”

“...No,” Pansy said after a moment. “Fine. Deal.”

Draco smiled like he was up to something, but offered up his hand to her anyway. “Deal.”

The two of them shook on it, and the deal was in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed! :)


	6. what makes you so special?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for 80 kudos!! i'm so grateful for everyone who read this, it means so much.  
> i had so much fun writing this chapter because Hermione finally makes an appearance! also pansy is dumb and i love her <3.

Draco slept. Pansy didn’t.

It was really fucking hard to sleep when you were tucked next to Malfoy on a leather couch that had probably been there since the late 18th century with no blankets or pillows and basically no fire, but apparently that had been no problem for him. It was almost laughable. They weren’t cuddling exactly— Draco would’ve killed Pansy if he knew the position they were in, but they were definitely close. Pansy didn’t mind, and it was nice to see Draco dropping his act. His personality wasn’t quite an act, but it seemed tiring, and she could tell when he had to drop it. 

Once the first student came out of the dormitories—a scared-looking first year who nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Pansy and Draco on the couch—she gently shook Malfoy to wake him up. And when that didn’t work, she resorted to violently slapping him on his shoulder until he fell off the couch while whispering a string of swears. 

“What the _fuck,_ ” Malfoy groaned from the floor, his voice soft and low. 

“Get up, fucker,” Pansy said quietly, nudging him with her foot. “You fell asleep. On me.”

Draco still looked like he had no idea where he was, but was able to sit upright on the floor and look up at her. His hair was fucked— he usually never let it look that way. Pansy had never seen it so untidy and it kind of wanted to make her laugh. “ _Fuck_ , did I?”

“Yeah.”

He scrambled up from the floor and brushed off his robes, trying his best to flatten his hair and look presentable. “Are we late? What time is it?”

“No, we’ve got loads of time before breakfast. I think.”

“Christ, I slept like _shit_ ,” Malfoy said from across the room, putting his shoes on that he had been carrying around the night before. “Nightmares, I assume. I never really remember them in the morning.”

“You were a pain in the arse last night. Fucking kicking…I’m surprised you didn’t fall off the couch.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not used to sleeping with someone.”

Pansy laughed as she watched him realize what he had said. “Wow, Draco, we _slept_ together last night, how do you feel?” she asked with false sincerity.

Malfoy shoved her lightly and knocked her back onto the couch. “Not so loud, Parkinson.”

“Fuck off, a first year already saw us. I don’t give two shits if people think we’re dating, you know? Because we’re both—”

“Don’t say it out loud,” Draco whispered, almost a hiss.

“You’re treating the word ‘gay’ like how we say ‘You-Know-Who’.”

“We should be?” He said it as a question. Pansy was about to laugh, but she saw the sincerity in his face. He actually didn’t want to say it. That was difficult for Pansy to wrap her mind around— he didn’t want to say that he liked boys. Maybe she had just been raised differently from him, she honestly didn’t know. Not that her parents were supportive or anything, but Draco’s father would probably have him disowned— or worse— if they found out. 

Pansy swallowed. At least she knew when to shut up. 

“You’re right.”

Draco nodded, and a wordless exchange was understood between the two of them. He turned and went into the boys’ dormitory, and she went to hers. 

Breakfast was exhausting, to say the least. It was mildly entertaining to watch all the students put their names into the Goblet of Fire for the selection that night, but once the Gryffindors had arrived, all the Slytherin students were being berated with insults and backhanded comments that they were just _desperate_ to have a Gryffindor champion and that there was _no way_ a Slytherin should be champion. Pansy didn’t care one way or another, but the comments weren’t appreciated. She was pretty close to snapping at one of the people who had made the comment, but stopped herself. 

Among the hoard of Gryffindor students were undoubtedly Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They were right in the middle of the upset when the Weasley twins tried to unsuccessfully cheat the age line around the Goblet, and throwing around the anti-Slytherin comments like any other. Sure, Pansy was mad at them, but that didn’t stop her from staring at Hermione the entire time. She was carrying around some massive book like she always was and kept ducking her head into it whenever the noise got too loud. It was the cutest thing Pansy had ever seen.

After breakfast, Pansy was unconsciously tugging on Draco’s sleeve and following Hermione down the hall. Blinded by love, or something like that. Head over heels. After a few turns and they had gotten away from the crowd, Draco tugged back on Pansy’s grip. She suddenly realized what she had been doing and exchanged a look with him. He nodded and gave her a smile, and she kept following Hermione down the hall. 

She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say once she caught up to her, but that was the least of her problems. Eventually she realized that she was going to the _library,_ because of course she was. It was on the opposite side of the castle as the dungeons, but Pansy couldn’t care less. Having a crush was making her a lot stupider.

She almost forgot that she was stalking Hermione until she arrived at the entrance to the library. Hermione spun around, clutching her book to her chest.

“What do you want?”

Pansy was very put off by her tone at first, until she realized that Hermione definitely still hated her. A lot.

“I was going to the library,” she said, shakier than she would’ve liked for it to come out. Her heart was beating out of her chest to the point where it almost felt like she was having a panic attack, and she desperately tried to remind her body that that was a normal reaction to talking to the girl she liked.

“Sure you were. Why were you following me?”

“I was going to the library?” she repeated, but this time it was a question.

Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it again. She fixed her gaze right on Pansy, like she was trying to read something written across her forehead. It was freaking her out, and seemed to go on for too long.

“What?” Pansy said, completely monotone.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re lying.”

Pansy laughed nervously. “What?” 

It wasn’t the best thing to say, but it was the only thing she could come up with other than some snide comment, and she definitely didn’t want to do that in front of Hermione. She was still staring at her forehead, and Pansy was holding her breath like her life depended on it. She wasn’t sure if what Hermione was trying to do was magic-related or just psychology, but whatever it was, it was freaking her out. She probably would’ve found it endearing if she wasn’t stressed out of her mind.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re lying or not,” she said, like it was obvious, “and I don’t think you are.”

Pansy let go of the breath she was holding. 

“See, that makes me feel like you _were_ lying and I was wrong.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Pansy asked, almost interrupting her. She tried her best not to sound mean. 

Hermione adjusted her grip on her book. “Because you don’t like me. And you were following me. I thought you were setting me up for something.”

“I wouldn’t do something like that,” Pansy responded, sounding much more serious than intended. Hermione met her eyes and there was a small moment of silence between the two of them where all the shyness and awkwardness went away. A mutual understanding. Pansy would kill for a thousand more moments just like that one.

Still, she had to be the one to break the moment. 

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your book about? I’ve seen you carrying it around for a while, I just didn’t know if it was for a presentation or you’re actually reading it or…” Pansy trailed off. _Fuck me_ , she thought. She had just rambled _and_ implied that she’d been watching Hermione for a few weeks. 

“Oh,” Hermione said, struggling to open the book, propping it up on her leg. “I’m so glad you asked. Here, hold this—” she shoved the book into Pansy’s arms. It was totally the opposite of what she thought Hermione was going to do in reaction, and she was almost too shocked to say anything. She was shrugging off her bag and pulling out a small box, right in front of the library like it was nobody’s business. Hermione removed the lid of the box and showed her. Inside was a vast collection of handmade patches, all bearing the letters S.P.E.W. Hermione looked to Pansy, her expression bright, while still brandishing the box of patches at her. Of course, she looked fucking adorable, so fucking excited to be showing Pansy something she was clearly proud of, but Pansy’s mouth reacted before her brain and all she managed to say was “spew?” in a weak tone.

Hermione’s face dropped. “It’s S-P-E-W. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.” She pulled back her book from Pansy and that moment where Hermione’s hand brushed past Pansy’s was the best fucking moment of her life. She could die happy now, because the girl she was crazy for actually touched her hand. Having a crush _was_ making her stupid.

“Right. What does that mean?” 

“Look at this—” Hermione pointed to a page in her book. “There are hundreds of house-elves working at Hogwarts— and millions all over the world, actually—and _none_ of them are being paid. There aren’t any laws protecting them or saying that they have to get paid, and most of them are convinced they don’t deserve to get paid, either. It’s terrible, really, and _no one_ is talking about it. They’ve been enslaved for centuries! I learned about it earlier this year, actually, so I created S.P.E.W. in order to ensure house-elves have fair wages and working conditions.”

Pansy had about a million questions. She was almost speechless. She’d never even heard of something like this before, no one questioned house-elves. The Malfoys had three or four, and of course, the one that had been working with Potter a few years ago. But no one, literally no one questioned the fact that they didn’t get paid. Pansy suddenly began to feel really guilty, and suddenly, she cared a lot about an organization called spew. But of course, she had zero fucking filter, and instead of any coherent thought, she said, “ _You_ created this?”

Hermione just nodded.

“How many other people are in it?”

Hermione’s face reddened. “Um. Two.”

Pansy didn’t even have to think to realize that the only three members were Harry, Ron, and herself. She had to stop herself from laughing at the pathetic number of members. It was endearing, really—not that Pansy had a lot of real interest in “elfish welfare”, but she did now. As long as it was something Hermione was willing to talk to her about, she was going to listen. 

“It’s two sickles to join,” Hermione said, still holding the box of patches. 

“I don’t have any money.” Pansy was about to lose her mind— she didn’t even care about this elf organization one bit, but she was immediately going to spend her own money on it so she could get closer to the girl she liked.

Hermione put the lid on the box. “Then you can’t join. Donations are a big part of S.P.E.W., we rely on them quite heavily. You can come back once you get the money.” She was talking very professionally for a 14 year-old who was running an organization consisting of three people. She also wasn’t giving Pansy time to go run to the dungeons and get the money, and instead was packing up her things again. 

“Wait—” Pansy said, standing in front of Hermione to block the entrance to the library. “Can you give me like, two minutes to go get it?”

Hermione paused to look at one of the clocks hanging inside the library. “Actually,” she said pointedly, “I’m supposed to be meeting Hagrid now.”

“Oh.”

Without any sort of goodbye or offer to see her again, Hermione walked past Pansy and back down the hall towards the clock tower. 

Pansy was actually shaking when she got back to the common room. Sure, her interaction hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but it was a successful interaction with Hermione, and that was enough for her. The common room was practically buzzing with anticipation over the Triwizard Tournament, and Pansy couldn’t help but feel excited right along with them. She found Draco sitting on the couch having an in-depth conversation with Blaise about quidditch, which was involving a lot of wearing and hand gestures. 

“Hi,” Pansy said, almost breathless, when she sat down on the arm of the sofa next to Draco. He nodded in greeting, but paused, remembering where he had left her in the hall after breakfast. He excused himself from the group and let Pansy pull him aside to a quiet corner of the room.

“How’d it go? What happened?”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Pansy said, still smiling and shaking from their conversation. “It was so great—she was so _nice_ to me, honestly, I thought she’d be _pissed…_ she told me about this weird organization she made, and it seemed like she wanted me to join. Or just someone to talk to about it with, I guess.” 

Draco was grinning almost as wide as Pansy was—infectious happiness or whatever it was called. “That’s—fucking fantastic Pansy, I’m really happy for you. Really.”

“I’m literally going to be on this high for _days_ …I can stop listening to sad music! What music do you listen to? I can stop listening to The Cure now, listen to some proper music—”

“I don’t listen to muggle music,” Draco said, interrupting Pansy. She ignored him and kept rambling and was definitely speaking too loudly for being in a public place, but she didn’t care at all. Even if Hermione wasn’t interested in her yet, it was at least progress, and that’s all she could wish for.

The rest of the day was mild—her and Draco were spending it in the library, mostly to do more research on house-elves, but they had gotten distracted very quickly and spent the rest of the day walking around the grounds and speaking with students from the other schools and accidentally-on-purpose flirting with them. 

When they arrived at the Great Hall for their second feast in two days, the room was actually buzzing. It was obviously much louder and more crowded than usually, and it was even making Pansy excited about the choosing of the Triwizard champions, and it was making her fidgety. She ended up overeating because of nerves and gave herself a stomachache, but she was still invested in the tournament just like everyone else around her. They were all spreading rumors about who put their name in and apparently a Ravenclaw student tried to put a Slytherin student’s name in the goblet just to spite them, but Pansy had a hard time believing that. 

Once their plates had been swept clean, Dumbledore stood at the front of the room and began his speech about the tournament, but no one was paying any attention at all— they were all too anxious. Pansy had heard a few names thrown around, only two of them were Slytherins, which made her less interested, but she was still excited to see who would be chosen.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore, carefully watching the blue fire lick at the sides of the goblet, “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions.” He waved his wand, and every candle, except the ones inside the pumpkins lining the staff table, extinguished. A few first years exaggerated a shriek after being plunged into darkness, illuminated by the few remaining candles and the goblet. Pansy felt like her heart was going to leap out of her throat.

Suddenly, the fire in the goblet went red and started shooting sparks. There were more shouts from the younger students, but they quickly went silent. A moment later, a small piece of parchment was shot out of the goblet and fluttered through the air into Dumbledore’s hand. 

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he said slowly, “will be Viktor Krum.”

The entire Slytherin table jumped straight out of their seats in uproar. Pansy too—she couldn’t help herself. There was a cacophony of screams and applause as Viktor untangled himself from the people slapping him on the back and trying to give him handshakes. It wasn’t much of a surprise, but it was enough for Pansy to get a solid rush of adrenaline. 

Once the cheering died down, the entire room had once again fixated on the goblet. Seconds later, the second piece of parchment flew out.

“The champion of Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

Everyone’s attention snapped to the Ravenclaw table where a girl with white-blonde hair stood up, hugging a shorter girl sitting next to her. Pansy immediately recognized the taller one as the girl she had been infatuated with the day the other two schools arrived. Her round of applause wasn’t nearly as big as Viktor’s, and was accompanied by a few dozen other Beauxbatons students who were sobbing in their seats after not being chosen. Pansy found it amusing more than anything, and was glad to have at least someone to root for in the tournament, because she wasn’t exactly eager to root for a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff champion. 

The room immediately went deathly silent after Fleur had left. Pansy could hear her own heartbeat and it was deafening. She didn’t even know why she was excited, but she was well past not caring. 

The goblet sputtered out another round of sparks before spitting the final piece of parchment in the air. 

“The Hogwarts champion,” he said, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Pansy immediately had to clap her hands over her ears from the sheer amount of _noise_ in the hall. It didn’t even compare to a concert, and the only thing she was able to do over the noise was frantically turn to Draco and mouth “who?” because frankly, she’d never heard of Cedric Diggory in her life— at least that she remembered. Draco made a strange expression and hand motion that mostly read as “I’ll tell you later”, and all attention was on a tall and lanky boy standing up from the Hufflepuff table—of course it _had_ to be Hufflepuff. Pansy gave some empty applause until he had disappeared into the next room. 

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said after the three champions had gone into the next room and the cheering had died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count on all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of your support. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—”

But suddenly, he stopped speaking. He had been interrupted by the goblet spitting sparks again. Pansy felt her stomach drop. There was a collective murmur throughout the entire Hall. Another piece of parchment had come out of the goblet.

Dumbledore seized it immediately. He read it and hesitated, holding the slip of parchment in his hands for what felt like an eternity. Someone shouted from the back of the room to read it aloud. Other than that, the silence was suffocating.

_“Harry Potter.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pray for draco in the next chapter)
> 
> please leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed!!


	7. love songs for the genuinely cunning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AA thank you so much for all the kudos!! (as of publishing this chapter, i'm at 99 kudos) it's seriously what's motivating me to keep going, so thank you so much.
> 
> this chapter is more of a transition than anything. draco goes through it and pansy is terrible at comfort. also i'm considering making a playlist for this fic with the music pansy listens to. mostly the cure, smashing pumpkins, and depeche mode. (kind of ironic since all the chapter titles are fall out boy lyrics lmao)

Draco had immediately fled the Great Hall once Harry’s name was called. Pansy tried to go after him, but was stopped by Professor McGonagall, who was hurrying up and down the rows of tables trying desperately to maintain order. The Hall had gone deathly silent after the last piece of parchment had flown out of the Goblet and erupted in chaos just moments later. Harry was pulled from his seat and into the next room where the other three champions were sent, looking incredibly confused and taken aback. 

It was almost funny how the events played out. If Pansy had cared a little less, she would have laughed. It was strange—the moment Harry’s name was called, Malfoy stood up. A few moments later, after the entire room spiraled into disarray, he just left. It was like an immediate mechanical reaction. His expression didn’t even change. No one took a second look at him as he left, but Pansy knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. 

Pansy herself wasn’t at all surprised. It wasn’t an understatement, either. Something always seemed to happen with Potter. He was the boy who lived, he was the one who battled Voldemort in his first year, he was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets to face Tom Riddle and the basilisk, he was the one Sirius Black was after the year prior. It was only a matter of time before something else surrounding him happened this year. And besides, just because his name was called didn’t mean he would _have_ to play in the tournament. She didn’t have the faintest idea of how his name was put in the Goblet, but that was the least of her concerns.

After elbowing through the frantic crowd after being released from the Great Hall and instructed to go to their dormitories for the night, Pansy pulled aside from the mob of students and started down a different hallway. She knew exactly where Draco would be—the boy’s bathroom next to the potions room. It was always empty because of the smell and the two of them had used it as a meeting place in between classes since their second year to exchange test answers or just get away from class. She was honestly terrified—not for Harry, but for Draco. She didn’t know what his reaction would be, but she knew it wouldn’t be good. 

Draco had always been very logical, but when it came to the people he cared about, he tended to let emotions get in the way. Pansy had long since been aware of that, ever since she befriended him in their first year. He tended to act like he was permanently alone, and that bonds of friendship were only temporary. No matter how much she tried to convince him that she’d always been there, he never seemed to believe her. 

When Pansy walked into the bathroom, she was immediately distracted by the smell. It smelled like shit—like it had never been cleaned. It made her lightheaded, but she continued walking until she found Draco. He was leaning against one of the sinks with his head in his hands, and he totally hadn’t noticed Pansy come in. Draco wasn’t a crier—she’d only seen him cry once or twice in her whole time of knowing him, but this time wasn’t an exception. He wasn’t crying anymore, but face was red and splotchy and his eyes were still watering, and when he brought his head up to look at Pansy, he gave her a look that nearly made her break down into tears. 

“Fuck,” was all she managed to say before walking towards Draco with her arms out. He held his hands out and gently pushed her away and went back to wiping his face. Pansy couldn’t blame him for not wanting a hug right then.

Draco smiled—it was a fake smile. And then he laughed, but it sounded choked, like there was another sob stuck in his throat. He swallowed hard and met Pansy’s eyes again.

“Do you think he’ll die?”

“Jesus Christ—” 

Malfoy laughed again, devoid of humor. He cleared his throat. Every move he made felt like it would be the thing to tip him over the edge to breaking down again. His hands were gripping the edge of the sink like his life depended on it, not moving a muscle. 

Pansy didn’t know what to do. The both of them were equally bad at comfort, especially on a level like this. What was he expecting her answer to be? Truthfully, she thought of Potter as nearly invincible, but she knew Malfoy wouldn’t believe that, not even for a second. 

Draco sighed and let go of his grip on the sink. Pansy was feeling useless and couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on inside his head. What if it had been Hermione? She definitely would have been in a similar situation to him. 

Suddenly, he took a shuddering breath and walked over to Pansy and pressed his face into her shoulder. Pansy stiffened at the sudden contact. Physical touch was how she showed affection, but she rarely saw Malfoy like this at all. She couldn’t blame him, honestly. Anyone in this situation could use a hug. Carefully, she wrapped one of her arms around his waist and another around the back of his neck and pulled him in tight. She could feel him start to shake and cry again, heaving in breaths on her shoulder. It was so pitiful, fucking heartbreaking even, seeing him like this. To see anyone like this. She rubbed her hand up and down his back, trying to calm him down. After a few moments, he let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not good with words,” Pansy said, just a little bit louder than a whisper. 

She felt him smile against her shoulder. “You don’t need to say anything.” He paused. “Sorry for being a bitch.”

Pansy grinned at Malfoy as he pulled away. “Are you feeling better?”

“Not really. But thanks.”

There was a beat, then Pansy turned back to him. She knew he wasn’t going to want to talk about this moment ever again. And that was fine with her. There was a lot of communication between her and Draco that was never spoken out loud, just understood. There wasn’t any magic involved, it’s just how they were together. 

“And no, I don’t think he’s going to die.”

Draco’s neck snapped towards Pansy. “You don’t?”

“He’s _Harry Potter_. No, I don’t think he’ll die.”

“Are you sure?”

The last thing Pansy wanted to do was give him false hope. But the look in his eyes—it was desperation, looking for just a bit of hope to cling on to.

“I can’t be sure of anything. That’s all I can tell you,” she started, taking caution in her words, “Divination magic is unreliable so there’s no way of knowing. If you want to—if it’ll make you feel better—we can intrude. With magic. Just to make sure he doesn’t die.” _Just so he can make it until the Yule Ball._ She felt like she had taken a running leap of a cliff as she spoke the last words. If they got caught, she couldn’t even begin to think about what their punishment would be. And there’s no way Draco’s father would defend him. 

She watched as Draco’s expression changed four or five times as she uttered the words. The bathroom was deathly silent except for the perpetual drip of water from a leaky sink in the back. She sucked in a breath. 

All he did was nod, and Pansy untensed. 

The two of them ended back up in their dormitory by some miracle and a lot of roaming aimlessly through the halls. Draco wasn’t speaking, which Pansy was fine with. It just made it less awkward so they didn’t have to talk about the crying thing. The common room was just as crowded as it was before the feast and no one seemed eager to go to bed. It felt strange— like everyone was just waiting for something big to happen. For the bomb to go off.

Draco was immediately pulled aside by Blaise to speak, and Pansy lingered behind him, just in case. Before they arrived in the common room, Draco had asked Pansy no less than a hundred times if he looked as if he’d been crying, to which she assured him that no, it didn’t, followed by him not believing her and spending minutes trying to cool off his face so it wasn’t as red. Blaise was speaking abnormally quickly and harshly at Draco, which was literally the worst thing he could’ve done at the time. Just news about Potter that everyone had already heard before. After a minute or two, Pansy told Blaise to go away rudely (her patience had gone) and pulled Draco away to the entrance to the girl’s rooms. 

“Are you going to be good for tonight? Do you want to keep talking about anything?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He still seemed a little panicked, on edge maybe, the most concerned she’d ever seen him since the year before. 

“You don’t seem fine,” Pansy said offhandedly.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated, more impatient this time. “At least for tonight.”

She didn’t believe him. 

But that was that, he had made up his mind. It was his fault for getting a crush on Harry Potter, of all people. His life seemed to be in danger once a month, and his reputation even more so than that. And with that, he turned away and marched off to the boys’ dormitories without a second glance.

Once again, Pansy couldn’t sleep. 

She would have blamed it on one of the other girls in her dormitory for breathing too loud but she was sure it was Potter’s fault. She didn’t even know what time it was before she decided to pull out her headphones and Walkman and listen to the Cure for the next four hours or whenever the sun came up, but something stopped her. Instead, she pushed the tape aside and reached for her Depeche Mode one instead and skipped halfway through until she got to “Just Can’t Get Enough”. Listening to it felt like laughing at a funeral. 

A few hours later of listening to the same song on repeat until she was sure her brain was numb, Pansy crept out of her room and passed through the common room to check the time. 6:35. 

She dropped off the tape at Draco’s door just moments later. 

Pansy took extra time at daybreak to bundle up and ready her belongings for the bitter cold that waited for her outside. With the whole night to think over her plan, she was going to be entirely prepared for her day.

She skipped the Great Hall entirely and instead went out to the front lawn. Well— _she_ didn’t. She was actually following someone— two people, actually. Harry and Hermione.

Her goal was to follow Harry, and it just so happened that Hermione was there as well, for better or worse. Stalking the two of them had become some kind of a habit to Pansy over the last few days, and though she realized it was obviously creepy, she was left with no choice. 

She followed the two of them outside and onto the lawn and watched them walk along the edge of the Black Lake for a few moments, deep in conversation. Pansy herself was making no effort to hide herself, and instead was standing underneath one of the balconies, shadowing her from the outside. After watching them for a few minutes, she started to walk over to join them. Her heart was beating out of her chest and her mind was racing, but she had gone too far to turn back. 

They turned to notice her when she was just a few yards away and watched her come down to the edge of the lake. Hermione looked confused and Pansy tried to suppress her urge to smile. It seemed as if she’d always be awkward around Hermione, no matter what.

“What is it, Parkinson?” Harry spat when Pansy was just a few feet away. Hermione pushed him back, desperately trying to maintain his temper. “Come to tell me I’m a cheat? I’ve already heard it all—”

Hermione turned to him and literally shushed him like he was a child, then turned back to Pansy. “What are you doing here? What’ve you come to say to Harry?” She looked legitimately concerned over what Pansy was going to say. That set off something in her brain—something that made her think she should act like a bitch just for the hell of it. But she had to stop herself. 

She pulled down her scarf from over her mouth and unwound it partially from around her neck. “I wanted to ask a question,” she said slowly, and then to Harry, “I’m not here to insult you. I don’t know anything about what happened last night, and I really don’t care. I just wanted to know—”

“No, I didn’t put my name in there. It wasn’t me, I swear, and if someone told you that I managed to cross the age line or that I’m looking for attention—”

Hermione shushed Harry again and it took everything in Pansy not to burst out laughing. 

“Okay,” she said, failing to conceal her smile, “that’s it. That’s all I wanted to ask.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged eye contact, then went back to Pansy. The way Hermione looked at her felt like a shot in the heart. She seemed actually scared of what she was going to say. She wouldn't tear her eyes away from Pansy, no matter how long she stood there. 

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry asked from behind Hermione. “You two are always together.” Pansy raised her eyebrows. It was the first time she had heard Harry mention Malfoy to her in a while. It was just a remark, but it gave Pansy hope. Maybe she would be going to the ball this year.

“Where’s Weasley?” Pansy taunted. “You two are always together.”

“Worse off than you,” Harry said heedlessly. 

Pansy stiffened. “What happened?” 

“He doesn’t believe Harry. He thinks he put his name in there himself,” Hermione answered. Her eyes were still locked on Pansy. At least she wasn’t doing the creepy staring thing she had been doing the other day in front of the library— _that_ was unsettling. 

“That’s shitty of him. I’m sorry.”

The two of them nodded in unison, and the air fell silent again. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by Pansy. She held out her fist to Hermione and shook it when she didn’t reach out to take it.

“What’s this?”

“Two sickles.” 

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, confused. Then, her face lit up into a wide smile— it was the same face she was making when she was talking about S.P.E.W. in front of the library. “You remembered!”

Pansy blushed, but hoped her scarf would hide it. All she could do was nod furiously and watched as Hermione pocketed the money. 

“I don’t have my books with me, but thank you! Really, really— thank you!” Pansy was practically as giddy as Hermione, but she was better at covering it up. All she could do then was begin to walk away. She had nothing left to say and had gotten all her answers. Just when she began to walk away, Harry shouted something from behind her.

“Pansy?”

She whipped around and turned to him. “What?”

“Who wanted to know about me putting my name in the Goblet?”

Pansy didn’t know what he meant by that. “Pardon?”

“I know it wasn’t you who wanted to know. So who was it?”

Her blush returned. Then, she realized that he wasn’t here, so technically, she could say whatever she wanted. 

“It was Draco,” she said with a smile. She turned around before she had time to see Harry’s face and went back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (more hermione content next chapter!!)
> 
> please leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	8. if they knew how misery loved me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the lack of updates. school sucks ass.
> 
> after this chapter, (if you can even call it that) i will be taking a break from this fic. i lose motivation for writing very quickly. i'm planning to finish it and reconstruct it into a full-length fic without chapters whenever i do finish. i love this story and have a lot of plans, but i don't want to leave you hanging. 
> 
> i'll probably be posting some different things in the next few months.

Hermione sighed as she flipped the page of the book. Pansy’s chest tightened at the sound—it was like a warning for whatever disapproving thing she was about to say next. Yes, obviously Pansy wasn’t being smart by doing this, but she needed to. 

“You could get expelled for this, you do know that.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m well aware,” Pansy said back in a sharper tone than she meant. “I’ve thought this through. Draco has thought this through. There’s no way they’ll find out.” She held her breath. 

“And if you do,” Hermione began harshly, “I’m not having any part in this. You are  _ not _ allowed to bring my name up. That’s the price in exchange for my help.” 

Pansy’s hopes were replenished, along with her faith in Hermione. She was willing to disobey school rules for her and her friends— that had to amount to something. Her chest warmed and somehow, she knew that she had just broken down a barrier between the two of them. One of many, but it was a start. 

“That’s fine with me,” Pansy said with a smile, and turned into the library. Hermione reluctantly followed her and after a few moments, Pansy could hear her soft footsteps behind her as they turned into a small section of the library, home to hundreds of old potions notebooks, bound in leather and collecting dust.

The plan to help out Harry using a potion had come the day before when Pansy was lying in bed. It was the only thing she had to offer Draco to make him feel better. It was the only thing she knew that she could do right. It was illegal. It was forbidden. It’s not like they even had to use a potion if they didn’t have to. It was just a precaution. 

As Pansy skimmed the bookshelves, Hermione set down her bag and her already tedious stack of books in her arms. The two of them moved in silence, pulling out books every so often to page through them and write down anything that jumped out at them. It did sort of feel like committing a crime, but all they were really doing was looking through books. Still, Pansy sucked in a breath whenever a teacher walked by the two of them.

Saying the library was cramped was an understatement, and Pansy was acutely aware of the closeness between the two of them. The way Hermione’s hair got in the way of Pansy sidestepping her way along the bookshelf and how if she tried hard enough, she could hear her breathing, and how it would hitch when she found something interesting in one of the books and would go to scribble it down. She couldn’t stop thinking about her hands sprawled across the pages, and yeah, it was weird, but she tried not to think about it. 

It was really fucking hard not to think about it when the girl she had a crush on was so close to touching her, but just  _ wasn’t _ . It was like some kind of personal torture the universe (or maybe Draco) had inflicted on her. 

Pansy hated the fact that they weren’t talking. She had a feeling Hermione didn’t love the idea of small talk, but that didn’t stop her from trying multiple times.

“Why do you spend so much time in the library? I see you in here all the time.”

“Studying.”

That’s about as far as they got with conversation. The only thing Pansy knew to bring up with Hermione was S.P.E.W., and to be honest, she didn’t care that much about it at all. But the look on Hermione’s face when she got to talk about it was all worth it, and she considered bringing it up countless times. There never seemed to be a proper opening that lent itself to conversation, but Pansy had thrown most of her pride and fear of embarrassment out the window a few months ago, so she didn’t mind. 

“Could you tell me more about S.P.E.W.?” Pansy asked over her shoulder, trying to act nonchalant as she said it. Hermione was nose-deep in a book and she snapped out of it the second Pansy had said the last word.

“Are you only saying that because it’s the one thing you know I like to talk about?”

Pansy’s face dropped. She certainly hadn’t expected Hermione to react like that. Something twisted in her stomach and she knew that she had royally fucked up,  _ fuck—  _

“If you wanted to know more, you could just ask.”

Pansy let out a massive sigh of relief. “I thought you just got pissed off at me, Jesus—”

Hermione giggled softly, smiling up at her, and it was the cutest fucking thing Pansy had ever seen. She was surprised she didn’t lean down and kiss her right then and there, and she had to make an effort to stop herself. 

“No, not at all,” Hermione said quietly, “just just had to ask. What do you want to know?”

The way Hermione was just speaking to her didn’t do anything to help settle the butterflies in Pansy’s stomach. “God, everything---” She hadn’t realized how that sounded until a few moments later. “I mean…you just seem really interesting. So you’re muggle-born, right?”

Hermione nodded. 

“So why do you know so much about the wizarding world? Probably more than me, honestly.”

“It’s fascinating,” Hermione said simply, “I really don’t understand how more people aren’t in love with it— I guess because it’s all you’re used to? I love finding out more and learning new things. There’s nothing more interesting than the wizarding world.”

She kept talking, though Pansy wasn’t paying attention. At least not entirely. She listened as best as she could while skimming the pages of her book. Her notes started to turn into nonsense words and scribbled the longer she stared at them. She had a vague list of potions, but her heart was set on one— Felix Felicis. It was her best bet so far. She knew how dangerous it was to brew. The government regulated it because of how powerful it could be. The one thing stopping her was the time frame that it took to make— three months. They didn’t have that kind of time. Harry’s first task, and the Yule Ball, for that matter, were in just under two months. She kept looking.

“A wit-sharpening potion,” Pansy said out loud. 

Hermione stopped talking at once. “What?”

“It’s meant to improve intellect. Do you think that would work?”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed the book from Pansy, carefully reading the page over and over again before giving it back.

“I suppose,” she said softly, and then turned back to her notes and began rifling through them. “It seems simple enough. Like something we’d be taught in class.”

And that was it. That was the end of their conversation. They didn’t peak at all as they slowly collected their notes and put the books on their shelves. Pansy hopes it was just for their sake-so a teacher wouldn’t overhear. 

On their way out, still maintaining their silence, Pansy turned to Hermione.

“You’re not telling anyone about this, right? I’m good to go from here— I can do it by myself,” she said. 

Hermione stared at her. She was doing the same thing she had done the first time they ever met outside the library, in which she stared at Pansy’s forehead until it drove her insane. 

“Don’t do that,” Pansy snapped suddenly. Hermione looked straight up at her. 

“Sorry,” she said, and stepped away. Pansy knew whatever that was, it wasn’t magic. It was psychology— something her sister had taught her. Staring at someone’s forehead made them uncomfortable. Why Hermione wanted to make her uncomfortable— well, she could think of a few reasons. But thinking about it just made her feel worse.

“I’ll see you…tomorrow, I guess,” Pansy said slowly. Hermione nodded, and pushed past her. 

Pansy couldn’t help but to feel that she had just taken a step in the wrong direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't the end. sorry to leave it off on a bad note.
> 
> thank you for all the support on this fic. seriously, i wasn't expecting it to get any attention at all. to anyone who made it this far and wants to read it when it's finished, you're incredibly appreciated and help to motivate me so so much. 
> 
> i'll see you in a few months.
> 
> \- ghost


End file.
